


To Regret Among the Frost

by Douxgivre



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, pre S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Douxgivre/pseuds/Douxgivre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek regrets on one night of the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Regret Among the Frost

**Author's Note:**

> This is reposted from me, I either deleted it or I never reposted it after I had my friend take it down. This was written before s3 and I haven't changed anything to match current canon, nor do I plan on it. 
> 
> This takes place in the same universe as my fic Sweet Orchards, Smooth Cider where Stiles and Scott have moved to New England for college.

_Derek,_

_I hope it snows this year. Sometimes I think everything's going so fast, but when it snows it feels like, for a little while, everything is suspended and slow and calm. On the night of the first snow of Winter, I want to walk outside with you._

_Not talking, just existing. We could walk from the den to anywhere, towards town, towards the wood. I just want to shiver next to you and sigh into the silence; watch as the smoky ice from our lungs paints the hollow air with streaming lace. And enjoy the slow moments because they never last. I want this walk to be memorable. I want to think that, under the dim, orange glow of the streetlights, with the snow speckling the beams like falling sugar grains, we'll grow closer, an unspoken bond forming between us._

_But I'm afraid you'll freeze up after, like always. No responses and blank stares, as if ignoring it makes the pain numb. Like burying it in diamond dust releases you. There are so many things I want to say to you, things that I know will sting and burn. You've taken slush and spent years sculpting it into beauty and family. One that follows and trusts and loves you unconditionally. ~~Just like I do.~~_

_There's a lot of other unspoken stuff between us that's created a tundra of distance. I want you to see that in those moments, where you crowd the sidewalk with your scowl and your eyebrows, and your leather jacket, as the slivered moon pours silver about your hair, that it's okay; to drop the scowl, to lower your eyebrows over closed lids, and lean your jacketed arms a little closer to mine because we've seen and done the worst, but because of each other, we're still here. And that has to ~~count for~~ mean something, right?_

_So will you walk with me, the first snow?_

 

Derek's hands tremble, shaking the papers as he finishes reading the last line in his head. It's written on stationery with cartoon puppies in the margins, each with exaggerated noses and ears.

Above each dog is a name written in scrawly, unique handwriting. Jackson, Boyd (and above his, RIP), Erica, Isaac, and Scott. But the biggest had hand-drawn furrowed, angry eyebrows and a heart in red pen looped over the chest, with flowing cursive above it reading: My Sourwolf.

The orange light and hum of the lamps above comfort him. The sugar tasting bittersweet as he tips his head back with his mouth open in a silent, mourning howl. The moon lighting his features as his tears congeal to his lashes, his skin warming them again until they all slip away.

"Till next year" he says, as he kisses the cold stone that's as gray as the hairs starting to overtake his head. The stone reads a name he hasn't spoken in ten years. He puts the papers, worn, well-loved into his pocket. He slinks away back to his den, his scowl is tame, brows hanging low over his closed eyes, and his arm bent, from where his hand seeks warmth in his pocket, imagining it twined with Stiles' as he wades through the sheet of the first snow.


End file.
